


That's Christmas to Me

by Cassiopeias_Sky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Christmas fic, Enough fluff to rot your teeth out, Guns, Mentions of PTSD, Modern Day/War AU, Swearing, brief depictions of war/injuries sustained in war/death, drug usage (medical), implied sex (not explicit), mentions of IV pain medication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8893408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiopeias_Sky/pseuds/Cassiopeias_Sky
Summary: Bucky is an embittered wounded soldier recovering from a horrific loss during combat when an intern at the hospital walks into his life.  How long will he be able to hold her at arm’s length before she starts breaking down his walls without even trying?





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this came to be when I decided to enter buckysbackpackbuckle's Christmas Carol Challenge on Tumblr. I thought to myself, ya know, I'll do a little drabble or something to get myself into the Christmas spirit. 10k+ worlds later...
> 
>    
> I'd like to extend a special thank you to S & J for their amazing encouragement, reading, editing, suggestions, and overall moral support while writing this beast. _You two are amazing_
> 
>    
> This story includes a special guest appearance by John Diggle (yeah, I know, he's DC. Whatever, I love him).  
>  
> 
> If you're curious about what the music would sound like, check out Pentatonix. Their versions of That's Christmas to Me and Hallelujah were the inspirations behind this story.

“Rank, full name, and date of birth?” drones the nondescript nurse. They’re all the same. 

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, March 10, 1982,” he mumbles through the haze of powerful IV painkillers. The phantom pains from his missing arm are _bad_ today, and that’s saying something.

“Alright Sergeant Barnes, here are the rest of your meds for today,” she announces as she helps him drink some lukewarm water to swallow the small handful of pills. He doesn’t bother telling her that he’d prefer that she call him Bucky – she’ll forget by her next visit anyway. They always do. “The doctor will be in to see you soon.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he mumbles under his breath as she leaves. God knows that ‘soon’ in this place could mean six hours.

He groggily looks around his hospital room – as far as rooms at the VA go, it isn’t too shabby. It’s small, but it isn’t like he’s got a bunch of people visiting. The VA hospital closest to home wasn’t able to accept another patient at this time since they were stuffed to capacity with other wounded and psychologically damaged soldiers, so he was shipped off to a location in the middle of nowhere. His family calls every day, but they just can’t afford the plane tickets to visit, especially this close to the holidays. Stupid holidays. What a shitty time to be alone. 

Bucky sighs into the empty room. Might as well take a nap.

_2 Weeks Earlier_

_Fuck. It’s HOT. Not as in a ‘wow, it would be a great day for the pool’ kind of hot, but more of a ‘sweet Jesus I’m cooking in my own juices’ kind of hot. It’s absolutely unbearable, and here they stand in full army gear in the middle of the desert. In the middle of a goddamn heat wave._

_“Howlies, are you ready to go kick some ass?” bellows Dugan. He’s a little overzealous sometimes._

_“Remind me why I’m here again?” Bucky mutters under his breath as he fruitlessly wipes the sweat from his brow._

_Steve regards his comrade with an amused smirk. “Because I hit a growth spurt that actually qualified me to join the army. And you followed because you’re a worry wart.”_

_“Right,” Bucky sighs. His best friend used to be such a pipsqueak, but grew almost exponentially over the course of a particularly chilly winter._

_“And then the other side of the world decided to declare war on itself, and the US stepped in to stop the killing,” Steve continues, “because with great power comes great responsibility, and if we didn’t try to stop the killing of tens of thousands of innocent civilians targeted for their choice of faith, then we’re no better than the ones holding the guns.” Steve, the ever-loving patriot._

_Bucky holds up his sniper rifle, “But we are holding guns.”_

_“Shut up, Buck. You know what I meant.”_

_They get into the second of the three Jeeps leaving base, and head out to complete their mission._

_Twenty minutes later, they’re stopped on the side of the road because the lead Jeep crapped out. Again._

_Fuck, it’s HOT._

_An unidentified vehicle is approaching from the other direction, and Bucky hears Dugan suddenly yell from the front vehicle, “GET DOWN! GET DOWN! INCOMING HOSTILES! INCOM-“_

_He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before everything goes white and eerily silent._

_It takes a minute or two, but sound eventually comes back; a gentle ringing in Bucky’s ears which contrasts sharply with the blinding pain in his arm that he ignores as he frantically searches for Steve. He’d pushed Steve behind the vehicle…oh, there he is. Just a few feet away, holding his head in his hands and looking dazed but otherwise unhurt as he leans against the Jeep’s tire._

_Satisfied that Steve’s okay, Bucky finally looks down to assess his injury…his…his injury…where…_

_…where…_

_…where is his fucking arm?_

_Oh, there it is. Fifteen feet away. What the hell is it doing over there? Fuck. It’s HOT…_

Eyes that had closed just moments before slam open. It never fails; whenever he closes his eyes he’s taken back to that horrible day and the IED that took not only his left arm, but also three of his closest friends and brothers-in-arms. At least Steve survived.

Steve had wanted to come with when Bucky was shipped stateside for treatment, but they wouldn’t let him go. How could they? They were now short four guys, and Steve didn’t get hurt.

This would be so much easier to deal with if he wasn’t alone. His left arm is a price he’d willingly pay all over again if it keeps Steve alive, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. 

His musings are interrupted by a knock at the door, and a glance at the clock tells him that it’s only been a few minutes since the nurse left. If this is actually the doctor, he’ll eat his combat boot.

“Yeah,” he calls out, and two women enter the room. Well, his boots are safe, anyway. The first is Deb Jansen; he’s familiar with her since she’s the social worker assigned to him while he’s in the hospital. She’s okay – overworked, but she does the best she can. Bucky has to admit that she does a pretty good job putting up with his pissy moods.

“Sargent Barnes, I’d like to introduce you to one of my interns,” she begins gently. “She’ll be taking over this floor since Tabitha is no longer here.” Deb always talks as if her patients are going to either break or attack someone – he supposes it’s true more often than not. 

Intern Girl steps forward with a smile and introduces herself. He doesn’t really bother to listen; she probably won’t remember to call him by the right name anyway, so why should he bother? 

“I’d prefer for you to call me Bucky,” he mutters, toeing the line of being rude with his tone.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” she replies simply with a smile.

Bucky notices immediately how her gaze stays focused on his – she doesn’t stare at the place where his arm should be. He also notices that she has startlingly warm eyes. Most of the people he meets in this place are tired, overworked, and just trying to get through the day, but this woman actually looks like she wants to be here. He suddenly realizes that she looks to be about his age.

“You’re an intern? Aren’t you a little old to be in school?” he snaps. The warmth she radiates is making him extremely uncomfortable.

She looks a bit taken aback at his question before she shrugs with a self-deprecating smile. “Technically, yes. It took me a while to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”

Well, what do you know? This one seems to have a personality. Well, this place will beat it out of her soon enough, he thinks cynically.

Deb’s phone dings, and she quickly scans her message before turning to the other woman. “I have to run down to the second floor for an emergency – can you handle the this on your own? You have just one more patient visit today, the next room down the hall.”

Ugh, Bucky knows exactly who Deb is talking about. That stupid, cheerful, _loud_ asshole.

“Absolutely,” Intern Girl says with a nod before turning her attention back to Bucky.

“So…are you my new case worker?” Please say no, please say no…

She smiles gently before responding, “No, I’m not doing cases until January when my second practicum starts. My current responsibility is residential activity coordination.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He doesn’t care that he’s being rude; he just wants her to say whatever she has to say so she’ll leave. 

“Well, we plan out a bunch of activities for the patients and see who wants to show up. Since the holidays are officially upon us, I’ve got all sorts of fun things set up. If you want,” she adds hastily. “You don’t have to participate in anything you don’t want to. But I promise, I tried to make them as tolerable as possible; I know that organized group activities can sometimes be really, really lame.”

Organized group activities. Gross. 

She keeps talking, or rather babbling, as if she’s a little nervous around him. Two and a half weeks ago he probably would have found it cute and incredibly endearing, but as it was, she’s getting under his skin in the worst possible way. “There’s a crafting class, but it’s not the construction paper and glitter type of craft. I mean, that’s kind of below you guys, and glitter is like the STD of the craft world. It’s actually more of a shop class than crafting, I guess; you’d be making little wooden Christmas trees or dreidels, whichever you’d like. And there’s a caroling group, and –“ 

“Thanks, but I’m not up for any of that,” Bucky mutters, cutting her off mid-sentence. What the hell can he do with just one damn arm? He’s not about to make a fool of himself. He tries to send an obvious message to Intern Girl by turning his attention to the TV. God, is everything trying to rub the holidays in his face? Stupid Hallmark channel with it’s stupid 25 Days of Christmas bullshit…his nurse must have hit the remote when she was taking his blood pressure.

She looks crushed for a moment, but hides it well behind a smile. “Okay, well if you change your mind just let me know.” She places a flier with the list of activities on his bedside table. “It was really nice to meet you, Bucky. Do you mind if I pop in to say hi when I’m working?”

“Do what you want,” he mutters as he changes the channel.

***

The next day is a good day, pain wise, and Bucky is bored out of his mind. He flips through the limited channels, but nothing catches his attention since he isn’t interested in cheesy holiday movies, CNN, or reruns of That 70s Show. 

The third time through, he finally settles on an action movie he hasn’t yet seen. He’s just starting to get interested when a knock at the door interrupts his concentration.

“What?” he growls out.

“Hey Bucky,” Intern Girl says with a smile as she pokes her head in. “I just wanted to say hi, and see if there’s anything you need?”

He’s momentarily caught off guard because she actually _remembered_ to call him Bucky. 

His eyes briefly flit over to her before focusing back on the TV. “Nope,” he replies, again on the rude side.

“Alright, well, enjoy the rest of your day,” she says softly, withdrawing and closing the door behind her.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he mutters to himself sarcastically.

He’s just starting to get back into his movie when he hears raucous laughter coming from the room next to him. Why is that guy such a rude asshole? Doesn’t he know Bucky’s brooding over here? 

Hell, why the fuck isn’t _he_ brooding? He’s got severe burns on half his body and had to have major surgery on…something…Bucky didn’t really care enough to listen too long. Big, dumb jerk.

More laughter – there’s got to be at least three or four people over there. Must have family visiting, because Bucky just barely picks up on the sound of feminine giggles. Lucky bastard, he thinks ruefully to himself.

***

The next week passes much like the one before. Bucky waits for the daily call from his mom and dad, hopes for a call from Steve who’s still overseas, and waits for the doctor to tell him whether or not the US Army has approved his application to be a recipient for an experimental prosthetic. He waits for the holidays to pass, because they do nothing to improve his mood, and he waits for the painkillers to kick in when his pain reaches intolerable levels.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Every day Intern Girl pokes her head in, and every day Bucky rudely blows her off.

More laughter next door, and he hears the feminine timbre of a woman’s laughter – it’s always shortly after Intern Girl leaves his room. Is she the source of the giggles?

***

Two days in a row go by without Intern Girl coming in to bother him. Maybe she finally figured out that she wasn’t wanted.

The following day she was back with her irritatingly warm eyes and smile.

Oh right, she probably doesn’t work weekends.

Bucky starts to wonder about the laughter next door, occurring once again, but doesn’t think twice about why he wondered where she was.

***

The days pass, every day much the same as the one before. He puts on a good front for his family when they call, he speaks with the psychiatrists as required, undergoes his physical therapy, and, of course, there’s Intern Girl. She’s the new constant in his life, and Bucky just cannot understand why she stops by to say hello every damn day when he is so rude to her. Every damn day.

The only thing that changes are the sounds coming from next door. He’s figured out that there are maybe five people that meet on a daily basis, and every now and then he hears singing. Singing? What the fuck? And it’s goddamn Christmas music. He just CANNOT get away from Christmas. It annoys him immensely until the day he thinks he hears her voice.

Maybe it’s not so bad.

***

Bucky keeps glancing at the clock. He tells himself that it’s because he’s waiting for the doctor. Because he is. There’s no other reason. Nope. Intern Girl clearly forgot about him, it’s way past the time she normally stops by… 

Shit.

He’s about to turn on the TV again when he hears something.

Is that laughter in the hallway? Geez, keep it down, assholes. Some of us are trying live out our crabby existence in peace.

“John Diggle! Put me DOWN!” Bucky hears her voice, and is about to rip the covers off to go to her when he hears the musical sound of her laughter. Oh, he’d thought she was in trouble for a second. 

Why was going to her his first reaction?

The laughter gets closer. “Wait, Digg, I have a stop to make. Put me down, you big goober, you’re going to reopen your stitches, it’ll probably get infected again, and then you’ll end up having to postpone your surgery for _another_ week.”

Bucky hears someone snort out a laugh, “At least it isn’t the arm with the skin grafts!”

A knock comes and, as always, she waits for his gruff acknowledgement before opening the door.

“Hi Bucky! How’s it going today?” She’s glowing, and her eyes are even warmer than usual; the leftover laughter looks good on her.

She didn’t forget about him. He doesn’t know why, but he’s relieved.

“It’s going,” he mumbles before turning on the TV.

Bucky is being considerably less rude than usual, and maybe that’s why she continues. “You know, if you want some company, you can join us next door in Digg’s room. We’ve got a small acapella ensemble going on if you want to join in or give some feedback? They guys want to go caroling around the facility on Christmas Eve, but don’t want to sound like shit so they’re rehearsing.”

“Hey! We don’t sound _that_ bad!” Bucky hears some indignant protests from the hallway. He can’t help but smirk.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Alright, well, the invitation stands if you’re ever interested.” Intern Girl smiles softly as she backs out of the room.

The latch doesn’t quite catch, and the door ends up swinging open just a bit so he can hear the hushed conversation in the hall.

“Why’d you invite that guy? He’s such a prick! Thinks that just because he lost his damn arm that he’s so much worse off than the rest of us.” It shouldn’t, but the comment bothers Bucky. He doesn’t even know who said it.

“Hey! Nuh uh. You’re not going to talk like that.” Wow, Intern Girl has an edge to her voice that he’s never heard before. “You’re not him, you don’t know exactly what he’s going through or what he’s dealing with, so back off the judgment calls. You should know just as well as anyone that not all wounds are visible. Don’t be an ass, Ramsay.”

Did…did she just _defend_ him? _Why_?? And why does he care? Why does it warm him from the inside out, even when he just wants to curl up and hide away from the world?

He hears a muttered apology followed by footsteps, and then the sound of chairs being dragged across the floor in the next room. 

This time, when the singing starts, he strains to listen. Bucky gingerly shifts himself to the edge of his bed, breathing deeply through his nose when the pain spikes, and stands stiffly. As he slowly creeps out into the hallway to get closer, staying close to the wall but careful to avoid the hanging Christmas decorations, he grudgingly admits to himself that they actually sound really damn good.

He thinks he knows the song…Hallelujah…is this even a Christmas song?

It doesn’t matter; Bucky gets pulled into the music so he leans against wall, closes his eyes, and just _listens_.

That is, until her voice comes to the forefront and his eyes snap open.

_Well baby I’ve been here before, I’ve seen this room and I’ve walked this floor_

_I used to be alone before I knew you_

_I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch, love is not a victory march_

_It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah_

At some point, he doesn’t know when, he’d moved until he was standing in front of the door. Bucky realizes this when he finds that his gaze is locked on her, and her eyes suddenly meet his.

_Busted._

He freezes, waiting for her do…something…call him out for lurking, wave him in, ignore him completely…God, all of those options suck.

But she doesn’t do any of those. She simply smiles warmly and winks at him as she continues to sing, acknowledging his presence but not calling any unwanted attention his way.

Bucky can’t help himself; he smiles back before returning to his room.

*** 

It becomes part of their routine. She (Bucky can’t bring himself to call her Intern Girl anymore, even in his own thoughts) still comes by his room every damn day. She says hello, asks if there is anything he needs, and asks if he’d like to join them next door. 

He, of course, says no, no, and no.

Then, five to ten minutes after she leaves and he can hear the music through the walls, he gets up and stands next to his neighbor’s door.

Their rendition of Silent Night almost had him in tears, and Little Drummer Boy is pretty damn good, too.

Saturdays and Sundays suck even more than they used to; Bucky finds that he misses her presence immensely.

*** 

It’s the week before Christmas, and Bucky gets up to watch, as usual, as they rehearse. No one else has ever noticed his presence, just her.

When he gets there, they are in the middle of a heated debate.

“So, are we doing the hand beats and stomps, or not?” someone asks. 

“Well, Hallelujah sounds better with them…” someone else comments.

“Fine then. I’m fucking out.” Bucky hears some shuffling, and gets ready to go back to his room before someone sees him.

“Hey, guys, we can figure something out. Ramsay, what happened? You suggested this just yesterday.” She sounds so damn concerned.

“But I can’t fucking do them! I have one goddamn leg! How the fuck am I supposed to join in with the rhythmic stomps when I _can’t_?” Ramsay all but yells. So he’s an amputee too? Huh.

Bucky stays where he is; Ramsay has clearly been triggered, and triggered people can become unpredictable. For some inexplicable reason, he wants to make sure she’s safe.

She takes a deep breath before speaking again. “Ramsay, have you ever heard of Rick Allen?”

“Who the fuck is Rick Allen?” he demands, clearly still agitated.

“Ooh, going right for it. She’s not gonna pull her punches, is she?” chuckles Bucky’s neighbor under his breath (is it Diggle? Bucky never bothered to find out for sure).

“Rick Allen. Also known as The Thunder God to his fans. He’s the drummer for Def Leppard,” she begins patiently.

“Okay? What the _fuck_ does that have to do with me?” Ramsay demands in a shrill voice.

“He lost his left arm in a car accident in the early 1980s. Still plays drums, though, for a very successful metal band. If I’m not mistaken, he’s listed as the seventh greatest drummer of all time. Not too shabby for a guy with one arm,” she calmly explains.

Ramsay is suddenly silent.

“Look, Ramsay, no one here will think less of you if you want to leave; everyone has their limits. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do. But there’s a flip side to that coin, and that is that you can do anything you want to. I know I sound like a stupid after school special right now, but it’s true. We might have to make a few adjustments here and there, but we can make it work. If Rick Allen can continue to play drums, and not for some rinky dink polka band but for a goddamn rock band, then we can find a way for you to be included with the rhythmic stomping. _If_ you want to.” Holy shit. She’s actually managing to talk him off the ledge.

It takes Ramsay a few moments to find his voice again.

“I’ve never heard of this guy,” he says in a quiet voice. 

Bucky thinks to himself that he hasn’t either, but he’s sure as hell gonna look into him.

“I’m sorry, I guess I just don’t know how to live with this,” he starts crying, and Bucky sees her grab a box of tissues and approach his wheelchair.

Everyone else in the room starts to move towards the door, so Bucky ducks back into his room. Three people go by, so he sticks his head out to check on her. 

She’s still in the room with Ramsay, gently holding his hand and sitting silently with him as he sobs out his pain and frustration. She doesn’t tell him to suck it up, that everything will be okay, or that he should count his blessings. She just listens and lets him feel, and it’s a refreshing thing to see.

Wow, Bucky thinks to himself, when her internship is over she’s gonna be one hell of a social worker.

Satisfied that she’ll be safe with Ramsay, Bucky goes back into his room and spends the rest of the day googling Rick Allen. He also comes across some really interesting info about Bethany Hamilton and Tom Whittaker, and he can no longer deny that he doesn’t feel quite so isolated or hopeless anymore.

*** 

The following week, just days before Christmas, Bucky finally receives word from the US Army regarding his application for the experimental prosthetic.

He’s been approved. Well Merry fucking Christmas.

He’s so busy looking through the paperwork and specs that he loses track of time until he hears the gentle knock at the door.

“Yeah…” Bucky calls out, not really paying attention.

“Hi Bucky. How are you doing today?” It’s her, with her damned warm eyes.

He’s torn. Bucky really wants to share his news with someone, but her? Would she care, or just act like she does because it’s her job?

“Bucky? You okay?” She takes a half step into his room, but stops.

“What? Yeah. I’m…I’m okay.” Fuck it, he thinks, I’m gonna chance it. “I just got notified that I’ve been approved for a new arm,” he holds up the page he’s reviewing.

Her eyes widen, but she remains motionless. Bucky is hit with a wave of disappointment until he realizes that she’s not moving because he hasn’t invited her in – she’s never intruded in his space.

“Um, do you want to see?” She looks surprised, and still doesn’t move. “I…uh….I guess you probably have somewhere to be…” he trails off. Stupid move, Bucky, stupid.

She shakes her head as if suddenly waking, “No, not at all! I’d love to take a look!” She takes a step forward, tentatively at first, but then quicker when he doesn’t kick her out.

“Are you sure you don’t have to be somewhere else?” Bucky asks – God, he hopes the answer is no.

She looks at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Technically, I’m an intern, which means I don’t get paid. I don’t _have_ to be anywhere.” 

He can’t help the smile that’s spreading across his face; and damn if she doesn’t smile just as wide right back.

Bucky hands her the sheet with the specs, and waits for her reaction as he sneaks a look at her name badge. So _that’s_ her name…

She stares at the paper, and stares some more. She doesn’t say a word.

Oh God. Why did he share this with her? She probably thinks he’s some sort of freak. It’s bad enough that he lost an arm, but to want a robotic attachment? That’s circus level freakishness right there.

Defensiveness hits him like a ton of bricks, and he’s getting ready to tell her to get the hell out when she finally speaks.

“This...God, Bucky…this has got to be the _coolest_ fucking thing I’ve ever seen!” she says breathlessly as she plops down onto the side of his bed. “Uh, excuse my language,” she mutters distractedly as she flips to the next page.

There’s no faking _that_ reaction.

“Really? You think so?” He hates how he sounds so hopeful.

“Yes! This, this is absolutely incredible! It actually ‘talks’ to your central nervous system…your brain can receive feedback to give you the sensation of pressure…holy shit…I didn’t know they were this far along on something like this! God, the amount of lives something like this could change, and for the better! This is _amazing_ , Bucky…I’m so happy for you!” She…she sounds choked up, and the smile on her face is blinding.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off her if his life depended on it.

She’s excited. She’s excited for _him_.

Suddenly realizing where she’s sitting, she shoots up. “God, I’m so sorry,” she says quickly, babbling something under her breath about being unprofessional and too personal.

He softly says her name to catch her attention, and as her eyes snap to his, he carefully shifts himself over to one side. “Don’t be sorry, please, sit with me,” he says as he pats the spot next to him. He hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate, but then he decides that he really doesn’t care. Not if she’ll sit next to him for a while.

She watches him for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” and she gently sits next to him, careful not to bump him.

She stays with him for two hours, _two hours_ shoulder to shoulder, and it’s the best two hours he’s had in a really, really long time. 

They talk about his arm, but then she asks him other things, things that aren’t relevant to his current situation, or his service; things you’d ask if you were trying to get to know someone. What’s his favorite color? What was his favorite subject in school? Did he have any pets? What were his family’s Christmas traditions? 

Bucky gets surprisingly animated when he starts talking about Christmas. Up until this year, he loved Christmas – it was his favorite time of year. He tells her of how his family home has a fireplace, and how his mom has an old set of holiday candleholders that she places on the mantle every year even though they’re uglier than sin. It was his dad’s gift to her for their first Christmas together, so every year thereafter she’s lovingly put new, bright red candles in the holders to light every night during the month of December. There are stockings hung on the fireplace, of course, and not too far from the fireplace is the tree with loads of gifts underneath. On the table, next to the tree there is always, ALWAYS a small bowl holding a few of his mom’s homemade nut clusters. When everyone is home, the whole family gathers into this room every single night, even if it’s only for five minutes.

Bucky can’t help but notice the soft look in her eyes and her smile, that _fantastic_ smile, as he describes it to her.

He doesn’t realize that he’s smiling right back until she says something. “You know, Bucky,” she begins, “your family traditions are straight out of a Christmas song.” She pauses for a moment; he’s not sure why, but she takes a deep breath before she speaks again. “By the way, that smile looks good on you. You look so happy when you’re talking about your family.”

God, he blushes like a fifteen-year-old schoolboy that got caught staring at his crush from across the room. He ducks his head and laughs a little as he runs his hand through his hair. “Well, they are pretty awesome. I miss them a lot.”

Bucky was about to open his mouth to say something…he’s not sure what. Was he going to ask her to come by on Christmas? To spend more time with him? He’s doesn’t know, because they’re interrupted before he gets a chance to form the words.

“Sergeant Barnes? I have your – oh, I didn’t know you had a visitor,” the nurse says loudly as she walks in, walking to the computer to log the medication she’s about to administer. 

Bucky can’t help but glare at the nurse for the intrusion.

“Ma’am, you’re probably going to want to say your goodbyes; he’s got some IV pain meds coming his way that are going to knock him out cold.”

“I can hold off,” he begins, knowing that he shouldn’t, but he will if it keeps her here just a little longer. He feels the bed moving, and he knows without looking that she’s getting up.

“Bucky, you really should stay ahead of the pain,” she says with a hand gently resting on his upper arm.

He turns to her, “I’m fine, I –“ he stops himself short, not wanting to lie to her. He can lie to the nurse, but not to her. “No, I’m not fine. It hurts,” he finally admits.

The nurse grabs his hand, none too gently, and pulls it across his body so she has access to the IV port in the back of his hand. A wave of nausea and the sensation of the room spinning suddenly hits Bucky like a ton of bricks, and he groans as he bends over at the waist. She kneels on the bed next to him, and helps him to sit back up before readjusting his bed to recline.

“Why did you just do that?” he hears her snap at the nurse. “Isn’t it procedure to give IV pain meds slowly to avoid this kind of reaction to the rush?”

“I’m busy,” the nurse snaps back. “He’s not my only patient, you know.”

“Oh, really? You’re too busy to do your job correctly? Because when I came in here, you were sitting on your ass in one of the family lounges, playing around on your goddamn phone.” She rises and walks over to the other side of the bed to stand in front of the now wide-eyed nurse. “Your patients shouldn’t suffer or be made to be uncomfortable just because you want to get back to another round of grab ass via text with your cheap Tinder hookups. Oh yeah, that’s right, I saw what was on your screen when I walked by today, just like I do every day at that time. You really need a wax job, by the way. It’s fine if the carpet doesn’t match the drapes, but this isn’t the 70s, dearie. No one likes shag carpeting anymore.”

The nurse sputters for a minute before real words come out. “You’re just a stupid intern, and you are way out of line. I’ll be speaking with Deb tomorrow.”

“You do that,” she spat back, “Deb will likely just give me a high five for doing my job and protecting my patients. Oh, and by the way, there are cameras over your shoulder when you sit on the couch. So please, try to get me in trouble. The security team will be happy to provide me with the surveillance I’d need to corroborate my story, even though they’ll probably want to gouge their eyes out after reviewing the footage.”

The nurse’s eyes get even wider, if possible, and Bucky suddenly gets a case of the giggles when she huffs and stomps out of the room.

He giggles even harder when his feisty companion mutters “bitch” under her breath before turning back to him.

“Buck, are you okay?” The corners of her mouth are starting to tug upwards.

He goes from giggles to a full-fledged belly laugh. “I can’t believe you just did that!” he manages to get out, “That was fucking _awesome_!”

Despite how miserable he feels physically, he can’t remember the last time he felt this light hearted. He’s still laughing, and it doesn’t take much longer before she joins in. Suddenly he realizes that he’s no longer in pain, and he’s pretty sure it’s not just from the Dilaudid that was administered so carelessly. 

Once they can finally catch their breath, Bucky finds himself gazing at her. Why didn’t he ever notice how lovely she is? 

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks as she begins to pull the blankets over him.

“’m okay,” he mumbles, still with a silly grin on his face.

She smiles down at him softly. “Are you still in pain?”

“’m always in pain,” he slurs. “But ‘s not so bad right now. An’ you’re a better nurse than she is.” Bucky pauses for just a moment before he suddenly blurts out, “Know what? You’re really pretty. Like, really _really_ pretty.”

She looks surprised for just a moment before replying, “You know what? You’re really high.” She’s smiling though, as if the compliment really meant something to her. He doesn’t know if he should tell her that even though his mouth doesn’t speak the words as clearly as he’d like, his tolerance for his meds is quite high and he’s still mostly lucid. He knows _exactly_ what he just said. He doesn’t want to risk ruining whatever it is they’ve got going, though, so he stays silent.

She finishes tucking him in before she meets his eyes again. “You good?” she asks softly.

“Yup, ‘m good.” Couldn’t be better, actually.

“Okay, Buck. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she smiles once more, and then she’s gone.

But he can’t stop thinking about her.

The entire time she was here, not once did she make him feel like he was less than a whole man, not once did she make him feel like a freak. She made him feel like a friend, and like he was someone important. Like he was important to _her_.

Even after she was long gone, her subtle perfume somehow lingered on the blanket and pillow that had been behind her back as she sat with him. Her warm eyes followed him into his dreams that night.

*** 

Deb comes by the following morning to discuss the preparation for receiving the cybernetic arm. Everything is well and good, until Deb tells him that he’ll have to be relocated in a few weeks to a different location for the implantation.

“This is a much deeper and more complex procedure than the surgeons here are capable of handling; you’ll be transferred to another facility and will be there for probably six to eight weeks for recovery and observation. Then, if all goes well, you can go home,” Deb explains with a smile. 

“So…where is this other facility?” It had never occurred to Bucky that he might not be staying here.

“The government has teamed up with the country’s leading university in healthcare and medical technology; it’s about a hundred miles from here.” He almost breathes a sigh of relief when she names the university – he recognizes the name and she’s absolutely right – it is one of the cutting-edge leaders in medical advancements. “You’re going to receive the best of the best as far as care goes. Since it’s such a groundbreaking and unprecedented procedure, the top-rated doctors in all the involved fields, including neurology, surgery…you name it, will be leading the team working on you. You’re going to be in very good hands, Sergeant Barnes.”

It seems so surreal…he can’t believe this is actually happening.

And then he hears a Christmas carol played on a TV across the hall, and he thinks of his daily visitor. He’ll probably never see her again after he leaves, and the thought hurts a lot more than he’d expected.

Out of nowhere, he apologizes to Deb for keeping her intern so late last yesterday. “I’m really sorry, it wasn’t her fault. I kept talking her ear off,” Bucky says. Except he isn’t sorry. At all.

“No need to apologize, Sargent Barnes, you weren’t keeping her from any responsibilities. She’s already finished her practicum hours for the semester, and the next one doesn’t start until after the new year. Anything she does now is on her own time and is strictly voluntary,” Deb explains offhandedly as she looks over some forms he’d filled out.

“What?” That can’t be right, can it? “But she’s here every day, working with the guys next door on some sort of caroling gig.” He leaves out the part about her visiting him every day.

She nods with a smile of pride. “She’s committed, that’s for sure. She didn’t want to leave the guys hanging, so she keeps coming.” Deb pauses and her tone changes entirely as he watches him intently, “Sergeant Barnes, you’ll let me or one of the other supervisors know if anyone is acting outside professional guidelines, right?” 

“What? Yes, of course,” he stammers. Fuck, he did get her in trouble, didn’t he…

She stares for a moment longer, looking a bit disappointed at his response before she gathers her things. “Well, let me know if you have any questions. I need to get going for a meeting, but just call if anything comes up.”

Bucky just nods, still thinking about the information Deb had given him a few moments before. 

She’s not here to fulfil a requirement. She’s not here because she has to be. She visits him, every damn day, because she _wants_ to. Her presence has been slowly breaking down the wall he had built up, and the realization that she wants to be around him takes the cold, hard thing that had wrapped itself around his heart and completely decimates it.

Today when she visits, he greets her with an uninhibited smile.

And invites her in. And shares his updates about the arm.

*** 

Christmas Eve arrives, and so does she.

As always, she knocks.

“You know, you’re welcome to just come in now. I think it’s safe to say we’re friends,” he calls out.

He swears that the dazzling smile she gives him makes his heart skip a beat or four. “Yeah, well…protocol and all…” she says as she walks in.

“Uh, did you lose a bet? That is the _ugliest_ fucking sweater I’ve ever seen,” he states matter-of-factly with wide eyes once she comes into full view.

“I KNOW!!” she laughs, “Isn’t it fantastic!!” She pauses when she sees the look on his face. “What? It’s Christmas Eve!” When he’s still silent, she continues, “Also known as Ugly Christmas Sweater Day!” She’s still smiling, and something twists inside Bucky’s heart as he shakes his head.

“Only you,” he mutters, but he’s pretty sure she catches the tone of affection in his voice that he’d been unable to mask. 

“I have something for you,” she teases, and he only just now notices that she’s got one hand behind her back.

“What? Why? You shouldn’t have gotten me anything!” he stutters. Shit. He didn’t think to get her anything.

“It’s nothing big, Buck. Just a little something,” she says as she walks forward, and finally shows him what she’s holding. “Taa DAA!! It’s an ugly Christmas hat! Just for you! See? It’s festive.”

“Oh. My. _God_.” It’s fucking _hideous_. It looks like it used to be a Santa hat, once upon a time, but got attacked by a rabid elf and a psychotic Christmas tree. It has a battery-operated string of lights circling the fuzzy white cuff, and there are also antlers, bells, a felt covered spring with a star on top instead of a white puff, and…glitter? “Um…didn’t you say that glitter is the STD of the craft world?” he asks as he reluctantly takes her tragic-looking offering. She’s smiling at him like she’s having the best day ever, so he can’t help but smile back as he clumsily puts it on his head. Not such an easy task with only one arm, but he doesn’t feel self-conscious about it as she comes closer to straighten it.

“Oh, it is. You’re gonna have that shit in your hair for _weeks_.”

At this moment in time Bucky doesn’t care, he only cares that she’s smiling at him the way she is.

“We’re going to go caroling around the facility now, wanna come?” she asks. She looks so damn hopeful.

He can’t do it. He thought he could, but he can’t. He can’t say no to her today.

“Sure.”

Ten minutes later he’s standing with her in Digg’s room, finally introducing himself to the other patients that have been meeting there.

“Should we do a quick warm up?” Ramsay asks while adjusting his own, less festive Santa hat.

“Yes, we should,” Digg declares. “How about the new one? We could use one more run through.”

And so they start, and Bucky’s heart constricts within his chest as he listens to the lyrics.

_The fireplace is burning bright, shining all on me_

_I see the presents underneath the good ol’ Christmas tree_

_And I wait all night till Santa comes to wake me from my dreams_

_Oh why? ‘Cause that’s Christmas to me_

_I see the children play outside like angels in the snow_

_While mom and daddy share a kiss under the mistletoe_

_And we’ll cherish all these simple things wherever we may be_

_Oh why? Cause that’s Christmas to me_

_I’ve got this Christmas song in my heart_

_I’ve got the candles glowing in the dark_

_I’m hanging all the stockings by the Christmas tree_

_Oh why? Cause that’s Christmas to me…_

 

And Bucky knows. He _knows_ without the shadow of a doubt that she did this for him. 

This song wasn’t part of their repertoire – he’d know, he’s been listening in on them long enough. She’d taken what he told her about what he missed about his family, and she found a song that encompassed it all. For him. She got the caroling group together, somewhere else, to practice out of earshot. For him. 

_She did this for him_. 

He knows he’s staring at her with his mouth hanging open, and he knows the others see, but he doesn’t care. He can’t look away from her, and he doesn’t know how to express what he’s feeling; what this means to him. So he does the only thing he can do in the moment, and he reaches for her hand.

She doesn’t pull away, no, she doesn’t even flinch at the contact. She simply flashes those warm eyes and smile his way and laces her fingers with his, as if holding his hand is the most natural thing in the world.

They leave Digg’s room to begin caroling down the hallway, and Bucky surprises himself when he starts singing along just three songs in. He’s not singling loudly, but he knows she notices because she squeezes his hand in encouragement.

They remain hand in hand the entire time while caroling; they visit several floors, recreation rooms, family lounges, and even the cafeteria (which was a beneficial visit – they each got a ginormous rice crispie bar for their effort). 

He’s actually kind of sad when they head back to Digg’s room – even though he’s in pain (it’s time for more meds and even just walking is exhausting after being inactive for so long), he doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t want to let go of her hand.

After she says her goodbyes and Merry Christmases to the other patients, she walks Bucky back to his room where the massively disliked nurse is waiting for him.

When she sees who it is that is with Bucky, she bites back any comments and wordlessly yet professionally does her job. When she administers the medication, she does it correctly, slowly extending the release into the IV port to minimize Bucky’s discomfort and nausea.

Bucky doesn’t speak until the nurse leaves.

“Do, uh, d’ you have plans for tonight?” he asks hesitantly, hating the way his words are already starting to slur. Please say no, please say no, please say no…

She shakes her head. “Nope, my family only does Christmas day,” she explains softly.

“Well, d’you wanna stay and watch a Christmas movie with me? I know ‘m drugged up now but I won’t be able t’fall asleep right away, an’ I’d love th’ company…” Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes…

God, her smile when he asked… “I’d love to.”

And she did. She sat with Bucky, still holding his hand, for the rest of the evening. She didn’t leave until he was sound asleep.

***

Bucky awakes with a start on Christmas morning when his phone rings. He’s disoriented for a moment, looking around for her. She’s not here, of course; she’d agreed to watch a movie with him, not spend the night for fuck’s sake, he silently berates himself. He smiles, though, because the last thing he remembers from last night was her warmth beside him.

It’s his mom on the line (she forgot about the time difference – again) and she wants to be the first to wish him Merry Christmas. He talks with her for a while before the phone is passed to his dad, and then his siblings. It’s a nice way start to the day, but melancholy sets in when he realizes that he’ll be spending the rest of the day alone.

Does he really have to, though?

Bracing himself against the pain, he gets up to go through his morning routine; shower as best he can, brush his teeth…what the hell, he’ll even attempt shaving today. 

She was right about the glitter…he finds some as he towels his hair, but it only makes him think of her so he smiles.

Breakfast is waiting for him when he exits the bathroom, and he thinks as he eats. Glancing at the clock, he sees that there’s still two or three hours before a nurse will be in with his scheduled pain medication…he’s decides to go for it. He’s gonna do it. She gave him the courage.

Ten minutes later finds him standing outside Digg’s room, knocking softly on the doorjamb since the door is open.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky, get your pasty ass in here!” comes the cheery reply. “What’s up, man?

“I, uh, I was just wondering if you want some company today?” Bucky hates the hesitant sound of his voice.

“That would be awesome, my family’s not coming in till tonight. Pull up a chair, we can eat shitty hospital food and heckle this damn movie together. It’s really bad, it’s about some stupid-ass kid that was stranded on an island for five years before coming home on Christmas…come on, it’ll be fun!” Digg exclaims as he waves Bucky into the room while still holding a half-eaten candy cane.

Digg and Bucky watched bad Christmas movies all damn day, looking through the channels to find the absolute worst of the worst so they could continue their heckling. Digg was right – it _was_ fun.

***

That evening finds him back in his room, alone; he’d taken off shortly before Digg’s family arrived so the other man could get some rest. Spending the day with Digg had eased his loneliness somewhat, and he was just mindlessly flicking through the channels when he heard the soft knock on the door. 

“Yeah,” he called out distractedly as he munches absentmindedly on his cold dinner – this movie is one of his favorites, so he doesn’t spare too much attention.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.” 

It’s _her_.

Movie completely forgotten, he cannot hide the excitement in his voice when he says her name. “Merry Christmas! Oh my God, what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining,” he adds quickly. “I just thought you’d be spending Christmas with your family.”

She giggles a little as she walks in. God, she’s _stunning_. She’s got melted snowflakes in her hair and her cheeks are rosy from the brisk winter wind. She puts down a bag before removing her coat, and as she does so, Bucky catches a whiff of her perfume.

“I couldn’t shake the thought of you being here alone, so I thought I’d come by and keep you company! Besides,” she wrinkles her nose, “the food here is appalling. A Christmassy guy like you deserves an actual Christmas dinner, so I brought you some.”

She reaches into the bag and removes a plastic wrapped plate full of food with a flourish and a soft “Taa daa!” _Homecooked food_. He’s drooling already. 

“I’m sorry if it isn’t heated all the way through,” she begins, removing Bucky’s hospital tray from the bedside table with a look of distaste and replacing it with the plate she’d brought. “The microwave in the lounge isn’t all that reliable.”

“Are you kidding? It’s going to be amazing, I can tell just by looking at it. Besides, anything is better than hospital food; I’ve had MREs that are an upgrade from the shit they serve here.” He’s so excited, he’s almost bouncing up and down in his bed.

She grins at him as she hands him his fork, and he wields it like a mighty weapon.

Bucky takes a bite, and his eyes roll back in pleasure. It’s. So. Good. It tastes like home, and between her and the food she’d brought, it makes the hospital room feel a little cozier and a lot less sterile.

She digs in the bag again, and brings out another plate. “Grandma’s apple pie!” she announces as she removes the plastic wrap and places it next to the other plate.

Bucky moans in ecstasy, and even though he’s still chewing the ham from his first forkful, he digs into the pie. “Ermagerd,” he mumbles around the mouthful, “sho goog…”

After the first few bites he decides to be a little more civilized; he should really enjoy the food instead of rushing through it anyway. 

“Thank you so much, this was so incredibly sweet of you,” he says in between bites. “You’re amazing and I think I love you,” he rambles.

She was digging for something else in her bag, and he doesn’t realize what he said until she freezes in place.

Fuck. _FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_.

Play it cool, Buck, play it cool. Think of something funny to say…

Nothing.

She finally turns around with a brilliant smile on her face. “What’s not to love?” she jokes. “You’re going to love me even more when you see what else I brought, I just have to find it…” and she turns back to keep looking through that bag.

So…crisis averted?

Bucky purposely turns his attention back to the food on his plate, he doesn’t want to overthink this. He was just joking around with her, right? Right. 

But it didn’t really feel like a joke.

She finally turns back to him, offering something in a small zip top bag as she sits at the edge of his bed. “Okay, I don’t know if these are exactly the same as what your mom makes, but this is my family’s version of nut clusters.”

He looks at them, looks up at her, and looks back to them before taking one with a hand that is slightly shaking. Then he takes a bite.

Suddenly Bucky is six years old, stealing candy from the bowl before dinner. His dad catches him, of course, and loudly chastises him for ruining his appetite before slipping another to his son with a wink and a whispered, “Don’t tell your ma.”

“They’re the same,” he whispers. “They’re exactly the same.”

The smile that breaks over hear face could melt glaciers, but all she says is, “Good,” before she’s back to digging in that damn bag. Bucky’s starting to think it might be Santa’s sack.

“I took it upon myself to bring along some of my favorite Christmas movies since we can’t trust that anything quality will be aired. May I?” she asks, holding the remote for the DVD player.

“Be my guest,” he says as he eats another candy. He’s feeling all warm and fuzzy right now, so if she asked if she could rob him blind he’d probably agree. He watches her as she gets everything set up, and he has a hard time understanding the strange pulling in his chest. As she walks back to his bedside, she stops again at the magical bag. “Good God, what else do you have in there?” he asks incredulously.

“Just a plate of cookies to munch on while we watch the movies,” she says with a grin. “I know, it’s probably overkill, but I wanted to bring Christmas to you.”

Bucky can’t help the smile that seems perma-plastered on his face. “You did. You really did.”

They stare at each other stupidly for a long minute, before Bucky shakes himself out of his fog. “You have to sit by me, though. We both have to be able to reach the cookies.” He scoots himself over, mindful of both his injury as well as the table still holding his food over his lap. She gently slides in next to him, silently agreeing to his terms. He’s pretty happy about that.

She pushes a couple buttons on the remote, and the movie starts.

“Oh my _GOD_!” he exclaims – he knows this opening, even though he hasn’t seen it in years. “This is Mickey’s Christmas Carol!”

She gives him a pleased sideways look. “Damn right it is, it’s my favorite Christmas movie of all time!”

“Are you serious? It’s my favorite, always has been! I just can’t ever find it anywhere!” It’s official. This woman is perfect.

She reaches for a frosted sugar cookie as he finishes his dinner, and they both settle in to watch the beloved cartoon.

It’s over all too soon, but there are more movies to watch and cookies to eat, and several hours later they’re still going strong. Bucky’s nurse has come and gone with his pain meds, but other than that they’ve been enjoying each other’s company uninterrupted.

So…maybe it’s the pain meds. Maybe it’s because it’s Christmas. Maybe it’s because she makes him feel things he’s never felt before…he doesn’t know. He really doesn’t, or at least that’s what he tells himself. But roughly halfway through Home Alone, Bucky turns his head to the side and whispers her name. She turns to him; as always, her eyes and smile are warm. And he kisses her.

God, the way her lips give way to his, the way she softly sighs; he’s not even done with the first and already he wants to kiss her again. He tilts his head, seeking permission to deepen the kiss, and she obliges. He lets loose a sigh of his own when he finds that she tastes like sugar cookies. His only regret is that he can’t cradle her face in his hands; God, how he wishes he could.

“Was that okay?” he asks hoarsely after they finally part.

She sounds breathless when she answers, “Honestly, Buck, that was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you,” he laughs softly, “but I meant was it okay that I did that?”

“Oh, right,” she blushes, “Yes. Yes, it’s okay. I’ll put in for a transfer to another wing when my next practicum starts so there won’t be any ethical conflicts.”

He draws back a bit, surprised. “You’d do that for me?”

She nods as a smile grows on her face, and he gives in to his craving to kiss her again, and again, and again.

***

Bucky is startled out of dreaming of her when there’s a rough knock at his door followed by a flurry of activity as five people file into his room.

Stealing a look at the clock, he sees that it’s only little after seven. He smiles to himself when he realizes that she only left about four hours ago, but then starts to worry when he finally wakes enough to understand that Deb is in his room and an hour that is likely before her usual start time. Shit, did he get her into trouble last night??

“Sergeant Barnes, I’m sorry to wake you like this but we have fantastic news!” Deb exclaims as she walks over to him.

“What? What the hell is going on?” he’s groggy from both sleep and drugs, and it’s taking him longer than he’d like to become coherent.

“Your procedure has been moved up; you’re being transferred now, the transport van is already downstairs!” Deb exclaims excitedly as she begins to gather his scant personal belongings. 

A nurse comes up and starts fiddling with his IV port, but he ignores her and turns his attention back to Deb.

“We have to bump your pain meds and give you an extra sedative for the trip, but you’ll arrive at the other facility later this morning. The doctors will need to speak with you and go over a few details, but you should undergo surgery within the next day or two!”

He wants to press a pause button; this is moving too fast. Bucky wants to talk to her, but fuck, he didn’t get her number last night because he’d assumed that he would see her today. He needs to ask Deb to pass along a message… _something_ so she knows, but he doesn’t get the chance. Nausea and dizziness hit him hard, and he turns around and realizes for the first time that it’s that nurse administering the drugs. She knows exactly what she just did; she’s got a smug look that he just aches to slap off her face, but he can’t because of the rush. 

“Did you just do what I think you did?” he hears Deb and _damn_ , she sounds mad, but he can’t…really…focus…. “GET OUT! Jaqueline, please get the charge nurse in here immediately…goddamn it I should have pressed the issue further…”

It’s a fast-acting sedative, and before he knows it he’s drifting off.

***

The steady beating of a heart monitor slowly brings him out of the drug-induced sleep. Bucky opens his eyes, and finds that he is in a sterile, white room that smells vaguely of loneliness and rubbing alcohol. When he turns his head, he sees four people in scrubs speaking in the hallway, and as if they feel his gaze they turn toward him and enter his room.

“Welcome, Sergeant Barnes. Are you ready for your new arm?”

That day, as well as the one that follows, is a blur of doctors, lab tests, strength exercises, more tests, more doctors, and surgery prep.

Bucky thinks of her when they finally wheel him in for the implantation, and he decides that no matter what, he’ll find her. It won’t be impossible – he knows where she works – he just hopes that she knows where he is and that he wanted to say good bye.

His last thought before the anesthesia kicks in is of her.

***

The pain is blinding; or it would be, anyway, if his eyes were open. Bucky takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. There’s no reason to be scared, he tells himself, he knows where the pain is coming from. And…he… _he_ feels. He can actually feel his left arm…the sensation of pressure…he consciously decides to move his fingers. God, he can feel that he did…he’s holding something in his hand. The feeling of something squeezing back startles him and his eyes slam open.

He turns his head and he finds a pair of warm eyes and a matching smile gazing down at him. It’s her; she’s holding his hand.

***

_Epilogue / Christmas Day, the following year_

_Bucky giggles to himself as he puts the final two gifts under their colorfully lit tree. It’s early – before six – and he knows he’s probably risking his life by waking her this early but he just can’t wait. He’s been up since three, and now his patience is at an end._

_He softly pads to their room, silently rehearsing he words he wants to say._

_Crawling into bed next to her, he presses his lips to hers as he murmurs, “Merry Christmas, Beautiful.”_

_“Mmmm…’s still Christmas Eve, cuddle with me and go back to sleep,” she mutters, turning towards him and molding her body to his._

_As he gazes down at her in the dim light, he’s knows he’s never been more sure of anything in his life._

_“Nope, it’s Christmas morning. It’s time to wake up,” he whispers in her ear, nibbling gently at the edge._

_He’s rewarded with a giggle. “That, sir, is why I’m so sleepy to begin with…” and she finally opens those gorgeous, warm eyes._

_“Let’s open presents,” Bucky says, biting his lip and giving her his big blue puppy eyes. It’s his secret weapon, and he knows she won’t be able to resist._

_“Ten more minutes,” she bargains, and he gently pushes some hair off her face with his metal hand before she leans into his touch. She’s never once flinched from it, or him, for that matter. To her it’s just another piece of him, and he loves her all the more for it._

_He chuckles darkly as he kisses her neck, “Darlin’ if you want ten more minutes, I can guarantee you that we’re gonna be late for breakfast at your mom’s, which will make us late for dinner at Grandma’s, and then because of the domino effect we’ll probably miss our flight out to New York tomorrow morning.”_

_He knows how his east coast accent comes out when he gets like this, and he knows what it does to her. “But that ten minutes is gonna have to wait until after we open presents.”_

_She giggles again, “Geez, what are you, five years old?” she teases affectionately as he grins at her; he knows he won. “Fine, but you’d better have coffee waiting for me.”_

_“Of course,” he promises before helping her up and leading her to the living room._

_They open their gifts to one another, with Bucky purposely holding the two small boxes aside for last._

_“Okay,” he finally announces, “Here are the last two! Oh, I almost forgot…” He licks his lips as he fumbles with his phone, setting it to play That’s Christmas to Me, the same song she’d arranged for the caroling group to sing for him three hundred and sixty-six days ago. He takes a deep breath as he hands her the larger of the two boxes._

_“You’re excited about this,” she observes._

_“Damn right I am, now just open it!” He’s almost vibrating next to her._

_She plants a kiss on his cheek and rips off the paper so she can open the box. Finding two small, heavy objects enveloped in brown paper, she carefully unwraps them to find the ugliest candleholders she’s ever seen. She stares at them for a moment, breathless, before looking up at Bucky, only to find him on one knee before her holding the last, small gift._

_“Go on, open it,” he encourages softly._

_Hands trembling, she takes the small box and unwraps it. Inside is a ring, and suddenly he completely forgets all the words he’d rehearsed._

_“Marry me?” he asks simply, cradling her face in his hands._

_“Yes,” she breathes, “yes.”_


End file.
